dvanced--well, there are
subjects on which I claim the privilege of a manly reticence.

I hasten over, then, the intermediate stages of antipathy, fear,
respect, interest, and adoration. In me she recognised an intellect
naturally superior, too indifferent and unambitious to give life to its
own imaginings--too honest, too devoted to humanity, to withhold merited
condemnation from those of others. I was the radiant sun whose scorching
beams melted the wax from the pinions of many a modern Icarus; or, to
put the metaphor less ingeniously, the shining light in which, by an
irresistible impulse of self-destruction, the poetical and artistic
moths flew and incontinently frizzled.

One trait in my character which Iris valued above all others was the
caution with which I habitually avoided all associations of a ridiculous
nature; for it was my pride to preserve a demeanour of unsullied dignity
under circumstances which would have been trying, if not fatal, to an
ordinary person. So we became engaged; and if, pecuniarily speaking, the
advantage of the union inclined to my side, I cannot consider that I was
the party most benefited by the transaction.

It was soon after this happy event that Iris entreated from me, as a
gift, a photograph of myself. I could not help being struck by this
instance of feminine parsimony with regard to small disbursements,
since, for the trifling sum of one shilling, it was perfectly open to
her to procure an admirable presentment of me at almost any stationer's;
for, in obedience to a widely expressed demand, I had already more than
once undergone the ordeal by camera.

But no; she professed to desire a portrait more peculiarly her own--one
that should mark the precise epoch of our mutual happiness--a caprice
which reminded me of the Salvation Army recruit who was photographed, by
desire, 'before and after conversion'; and I demurred a little, until
Iris insisted with such captivating pertinacity that--although my
personal expenses (always slightly in excess of my income) had been
further swelled since my engagement by the innumerable _petits soins_
expected by an absurd custom from every lover--I gave way at length.

It was her desire that my portrait should form a pendant to one of
herself which had been recently taken by a fashionable photographer, and
I promised to see that this wish should be gratified. It is possible
that she expected me to resort to the same artist; but there were
cons